Oh How the "F-Bombs" Will Fly This Season

(DGA Productions)


By: Greg Payne

Kevin Garnett certainly appears to be a very complex human being. Maybe that goes without saying.

On the one side we have the astute family man, supportive teammate and generous charity supporter. Just ask the victims of Hurricane Katrina who benefited from Garnett's 1.2 million dollar donation (out of his own pocket) back in 2005.

But on the other side, we have the ferocious beast, embodying a man possessed on the basketball court. Along with that ferociousness comes a rather distinct display or profanity and malediction, that has garnered an entire national spotlight of its own. When it's time to take the court, Garnett becomes the king of curses, the sultan of swears and the baron of blaspheme.

Now, as Boston fans we revel in it. Whether or not that says much about us as a people is a whole other matter. But the Garden's never louder than when Garnett is on his hands and knees, barking at an opponent attempting to drive the lane, or when his verbal tongue lashings of officials and opponents can be heard all the way up in the balcony. The crowd simply feeds off of it, like a pack of hungry wolves devouring a thick steak.

But, ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Garnett might have just met his match.

Enter Rasheed Wallace: The newest Boston Celtic and the only player in the NBA capable of keeping up with the many curses of Kevin Garnett. Ironically, they're also best friends. Coincidence? I think not. And now, they are teammates.

Sure, Kevin Garnett was bad enough on his own, just like Fulton Reed in The Mighty Ducks. But pair Reed with Dean Portman and suddenly you have the Bash Brothers. Those Icelanders didn't stand a chance. Well, pair Garnett with Wallace and you could be looking at the Blaspheme Brothers. After all, Wallace still holds the NBA single-season record for technical fouls with 41, during the 2000-2001 season. That's a technical every other game! It should be mentioned that most of Wallace's technicals come off of heavy, expletive-laced tirades against the much shorter officials.

The Garden will surely be rockin' this coming season. But we'll have to give it a test run (say a week or two), before possibly considering some sort of age limit, as the profanity level is sure to rise faster than the previously dead corpses in 28 Weeks Later. Surely as the F-Bombs reverberate through the rafters like an angry horde of mosquitoes, some noble mother will personify Maude Flanders and protest: "Won't somebody please think of the children!"

Sorry, lady, but this is about winning. And if a steady stream of swear words helps bring us Banner 18, you can be sure we'll put up with it. After all, we're from the very city that films like The Departed (make that The Depahted) and Boondock Saints were set in. Have you watched those recently? Every other word is (expletive). It's nearly pointless showing such films on cable television, as every other word has to be dubbed out.

And watching the games on television won't provide any solace, either. It'll be like watching a very profane basketball movie. Picture an R-rated Hoosiers, with Jimmy Chitwood talking smack to the Southbend Bears every chance he gets.

And it's not like children haven't been exposed to NBA-related profanity before. Just ask Eddie House's son, who's a more prominent figure on the court than even Gabe Pruitt.

Rick Reilly recently wrote about the many tantrums of Tiger Woods. Well, if he was that disgusted with Tiger Woods throwing around a nine iron every once in a while, can we please get him some tickets directly behind the Celtics bench next season? Then, sir, you will have a column.

The NBA even sometimes hooks up microphones to certain players, Kobe Bryant often being a popular choice. Um...have they ever mic'ed up KG or 'Sheed? I didn't think so. Actually, idea for a new Spike Lee project: KG and 'Sheed Doin' Work. Just think of the possibilities!

And will the pair of them going at it have any effect on the rest of their teammates? Will this smattering of curses become so enticing that even Brian Scalabrine gets in on the act? Could next season's Celtics be dubbed, "The Boston Bad Boys" and put the late '80s/early '90s' Pistons to shame?

Picture the most popular kid in class suddenly daring to stand up to the establishment smack dab in the middle of a lesson. Naturally, everyone else, sans the teacher's pet, will immediately have his/her back and get in a few quick jabs of their own before the higher officials within the administration are forced to intervene.

But despite the many inevitable interventions, one thing about next season remains quite clear: It's going to be (expletive) awesome.

Stay Tuned.